


from this dark trailer park life, we wake.

by snitches_get_stitches



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snitches_get_stitches/pseuds/snitches_get_stitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete didn't mean to stare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from this dark trailer park life, we wake.

**Author's Note:**

> completely inspired by [this cover](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNYz14Q6jlI) of lana del ray's _yayo_. might add a sequel and make this a longer work, but for now i like how this stands alone.
> 
> i don't own fall out boy, blah blah creative license.

Pete didn't mean to stare.

 

He really, really didn't—had been told enough times that it was bad manners and all—but he just couldn't tear his gaze away.

 

The boy was beautiful in the same way summer flowers were in early autumn, colorless and paper-thin, fragile in soft breezes. Starflower irises were hidden underneath pale lashes, casting shadows on even paler skin, but Pete's gaze kept locking on the sweaty line of his jaw instead, hot under the stage lights of the bar. This close to the stage, Pete could see how his lips quivered every time a lyric would whisper out of his mouth—could see how his hands shook every time his fingers stretched to press a new chord into the piano, could see how every rise of his chest came quicker than Pete's own breath.

 

As the melancholy tune carried through the rest of the bar, heavy and suffocating in the cigarette smoke already covering most of the room, Pete wondered how he'd gotten here. This young kid, talented and delicate and beautiful, stuck in the corner of some seedy bar in Fucksville, Oregon, playing a spell over the few patrons who still remained this late at night.

 

His voice was soft and luscious, every hitch and crack just adding to the feel of the song, and Pete suddenly wanted to know him—wanted to know how the curve of his waist would feel beneath Pete's hands, how that voice would sound underneath Pete's lips, if his eyes would still be that sad if they were locked with Pete’s own.

 

But when Pete hunts him down after the song, snatches his wrist as he leaves the bar, the kid only whispers, “You don’t wanna get involved with me, Tiger,” too warm in his ear, and then he’s gone.

 

X

 

A year later, Pete has a fresh new tattoo of a tiger, the tips of its teeth biting down where his heart would be.


End file.
